


Chained

by crmoon



Category: Chain Letter
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dominance, Dubious Morality, Horror, Kidnapping, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Murder Kink, Submission, The Author Regrets Nothing, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-21 04:17:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6037743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crmoon/pseuds/crmoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neil Conners has a dark secret, a twisted obsession, and the only one who knows is the object of his lust. The very person killing his friends and family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was wrong. Horrible. Sick. I could not stop myself from clicking on the video link. As it began to play, I slowly eased my hand down past the waistband of my boxers. The clip started with a couple, bound and gagged, huddled together in a wire animal cage. The woman’s makeup was smeared across her face as if she had been ravished, but I knew nothing that good had happened to her. No. They were the pigs. About to be slaughtered.

I watched with wide eyes, as a hulking figure entered the frame. Broad shoulders, barrel chest, muscular arms. I licked my lips, tasting the salt of sweat. The figure held up a long chain and the woman screamed. The sound made me jump and my cock throb. I could not look away from the calm, methodical way he hung the chains. He did not seem to hear the woman’s screams or the man’s broken sobs. Or maybe he just did not care. I slid my fingers around my cock and gasped at the feel of my cooler hand on heated skin. 

The figure was more than a man. He was a force of nature. A dark, terror that came in the night to snatch the undeserving. A monster. I had been watching his videos for almost six months. All of them were terrible and bloody. All of them were the stuff of nightmares. And every single time I got off. It was sick. I reached for the mouse. Just before I could click out of the window, the monster began his work. The first gut-wrenching scream exploded through my headphones. I grit my teeth and arched at the shot of pure pleasure that shot down my spine. 

Another scream, another clench in my gut. The monster might as well be fucking me for how good it felt. The scream faded to wet gurgles and my eyes popped open to look at the screen. The figure was standing with his back to the camera, looking down at the destruction he had wrought. The two people were nothing but blood and lumps of lifeless flesh. My cock was so hard it hurt. I reached for the mouse again.

It was good that I did not come this time. Maybe it was progress. This new obsession was beyond wrong. With what had recently happened to kids I knew, I should be appalled by the very thought of violence. Not getting off on it. One hand on the mouse and the other wrapped around my cock, I was not ready for the monster to turn and face the camera. My breath caught in my throat, as our eyes met through the electronic medium. 

His eyes were black, his face a mass of scars. He stared into the camera and I could feel the weight of his stare. Slowly, he cocked his head to the side. I came. Hard. For a moment, I was not sure if I was feeling pain or pleasure. It exploded out of me like nothing I had ever felt before. 

When the storm settled into faint shivers, I blinked open my eyes to look at the screen. The monster’s eyes crinkled into something resembling amusement and the video went dark.

I stared at the computer screen. He could not have seen me. The videos were prerecorded. I quickly shut off my computer.

One Week Later

I paced around my room, the ding of incoming chain mail ringing in my ears. He was taunting me. He knew my secret sickness. He wanted me dead. The ringing increased into one long chime in my mind. I could not think. Could not breathe. 

I ran over to my computer and grabbed the mouse. He wanted to come for me, kill me. Fine. It was better than the shame, anyway. I was a twisted, sick bastard for wanting the monster who killed my sister. I deleted the chain letter.   
The full realization of my action hit me, and I gasped for breath. It was done. He would come for me and kill me. I began to scream at him. Taunting him the way he had taunted me. The window overhead shattered and glass rained down on me. I caught a glimpse of movement a split second before everything went dark. 

I woke on my knees. I blinked my eyes open to stare down at the plush carpet beneath me. It was the only thing soft in a sea of concrete. I started to straighten my spine and realized I could not. My wrists were chained to the outside of my knees, gently curving my back. If I leaned forward too far I would fall on my face. A heavy weight around my ankles told me they were likely chained to the floor. 

A pipe, no more than a foot long, spread my knees into a wanton position. The position was awkward, but not painful. And I still had my clothes. I raised my head as much as I could and looked around. It was some kind of warehouse. Long chains hung from the high ceilings. The room was mostly shadow, but from what I could see, I was alone.

He appeared from nowhere. A great hulking monster made of darkness. I stared up at him, fear mingling with amazement. He was larger than he looked on the videos. Long, muscular legs clad in tightfitting denim. A pristine white shirt stretched across his chest. His hands were like paws hanging at his side, each of them capable of ripping a person limb from limb.

I felt my cock twitch in interest, even as terror seized me. The monster’s eyes swept down my body to settle on my crotch. Again, I saw the glimpse of amusement. He would probably rip my cock off first. The thought should have been sobering, but it only made my eyelids flutter. His dangerous hands would be on me.

He moved forward, graceful despite his large size. With every step toward me, he seemed larger. Finally, he stopped close enough for me to see the detail on the button of his jeans. He could reach out and touch me. He did. 

His hand lashed out and grabbed a handful of my hair. My mouth fell open, but my cry died in my throat. The grip was firm, but not painful. Not ripping like I expected. I stared up at him with wide eyes. His black gaze scanned my face, before he stepped closer and pressed my nose into the crotch of his jeans. 

Shaking, I inhaled. The air left me in a moan. He smelled of masculine sweat, blood, and something deep and musky. My mouth watered. I tugged against his grip to nuzzle deeper into the scent. I nipped at his fly, searching for the zipper with frenzied blindness. 

He pulled me away and I whimpered. No. I wanted. I needed. His free hand rose to unbutton his fly. Slowly, like a tease, he pulled the zipper down. He went commando. 

“Oh God,” I moaned. 

I watched, mouth watering, as his thick, uncut cock sprang free of its confines. The moment he let me move forward, I lunged. I had only ever sucked one cock before, and it was far smaller, but the basic mechanics were the same. I slipped my tongue under the foreskin to mouth at his cock head. His thighs tensed.

I expected him to take my mouth at any time. Shove his cock down my throat, choke me to death with it. I took as much of him into my mouth as I could and moaned at the flavor. Salty, bitter, and something wild. He tasted dangerous. The whole thing was dangerous. I closed my eyes and pressed forward. 

His cock hit the back of my throat and I choked. Tears sprang to my eyes, but I kept going. I wanted all of him in my mouth. I needed it. Finally, he was down my throat. I swallowed around him and pulled back for air. His fingers tightened in my hair. I swallowed him down again.

Tears ran down my cheeks freely. I held him in my throat until black spots danced in front of my eyes. He jerked me back by my hair. I heard a growl, what might have been words, before he stepped away from me. I whined at the loss. Face wet with tears and gasping, I stared up at him.

He cocked his head. His hand moved faster than I could see, clamping on the back of my neck and tipping me forward. I squeezed my eyes shut. My cheek lightly kissed the carpet. I opened my eyes and craned my neck to see over my shoulder. I could see nothing but the vague shape of him in the dark.

Large hands seized my hips and each finger pressed in hard. Yes. I arched into it. I wanted bruises. If I survived, I needed the physical reminder of his touch. He let out a rumbling sound behind me and gripped the fabric of my pants. They ripped away like tissue paper. 

Long fingers wandered with only the thin cotton of my boxer briefs between his skin and mine. I sucked in a breath when his touch strayed toward the cleft of my ass. Yes. I tried to spread my knees further apart, but the chains held me tight. One long finger found my hole and dipped inside.

I panted into the carpet, struggling in vain to push back. When the finger pulled away the fabric of my boxers stayed wedged inside me. It felt debauched. I imagined him staring at the sight with his hard cock in his hand. I whined and rubbed my face against the soft rug.

My underwear ripped away. Yes, yes, yes. I wanted it. I wanted him to fuck me. Fuck me raw, if he wanted. Just so long as he was inside me. I heard a soft click over the pounding of my heart. A moment later, a slick finger eased inside me. I gasped and writhed at the burning pressure, but he was unrelenting. 

When one long finger was inside me, he paused. My body shook at the shock of penetration. I had never had anything larger than my own much smaller finger in my ass before. His finger was the size of two of mine. Already, I ached. But I wanted more. I wanted it all. 

“More,” I whispered.

The finger slid out of me and back in harder. I cried out, but nodded for him to continue. The pace increased, more slickness being added along the way, until I took him easily. Then he added another finger. I bit off a scream, as he eased inside me with the two massive digits. They were easily the size of my own cock. 

Gasping and moaning, I shifted as much as I could to get comfortable. He growled and clamped his hand tighter on the back of my neck. I went limp. The two fingers slid out and then back in. Slow, but forceful. I did not bother to stop the tears that soaked into the carpet. My breath hitched on each forward thrust and I whined at each withdraw.

Finally, he withdrew his hand and moved to drape himself over my back. I could not stop myself from struggling. I twisted and thrashed as much as the chains would allow. It did nothing to impede his progress. The head of his cock kissed my entrance and both of us paused. 

He felt huge pressed up against me. World destroying. Capable of ripping me apart if he chose. I would die a bloody mess on this carpet in some abandoned warehouse. The thought made my heart beat faster, but only partially in fear. He could kill me, could have killed me already, but he had done nothing to hurt me. The monster was also a man.

I stilled. With a shuddering breath, I relaxed and let him in. Through the blinding pain of the stretch, I felt the hand on my neck ease and the fingers stroke my skin. Then, he was in. After the bulbous head popped through my entrance, the rest was a slow, slick burn. 

He settled completely inside me and paused. I could feel myself shaking, but all I could think was that he was inside me. All of him. The monster of my nightmares and fantasies, who killed with brutal efficiency, was fucking me with something resembling gentleness. It was a heady realization. 

He pulled out slow and thrust back in hard, ripping a scream from me. His fingers slid up into my hair and gripped tight. He changed his angle and thrust again. Lighting exploded through my body and I choked off a gasp. His other hand grabbed my hip and he repeated the action. 

“Fuck!”

A dark chuckle sounded from behind me. He started a rhythm. A hard slam forward into that spot and a slow drag back. 

“Oh, God! F-fuck me!” 

He jerked my hips back into his on the next thrust. Pleasure exploded so hard I thought I had come, but my cock was still hard and slapping against my belly. My body lurched with every movement, the carpet rubbing my skin raw. It was a small annoyance next to the pleasure and pain of the brutal fucking. 

“Harder!” I begged. 

I just needed a little more. Harder, faster. I wanted him to rip the orgasm out of me. I could not stop the noises spilling from my lips. Broken whines and cries that barely sounded human. They made the monster rumble his pleasure and fuck me harder. 

“Please, please, please,” I chanted. 

His hand slid around my hip to grasp my aching cock. His callused palms were so rough, they were another kind of agony on my sensitive skin. He jerked me hard and fast. Forcing me closer to orgasm despite the pain. 

“Yes!”

Suddenly, I was there. The pleasure washed over me and my vision whited out. I was vaguely aware of my body clamping down on the cock inside me and the monster’s grip tightening in my hair. I felt him still and cum, before my body gave out and I fell into darkness.


	2. Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Chain Man's Boy - The story from the Chain Man's POV

The little gamer had been watching my work for two months. I was a curious person by nature, interested in the crowd my work attracted. There were not many in the 15-20 demographic. One, in fact. My curiosity zeroed in on him the moment his viewing behavior changed.

He began to watch my videos later at night. Long after his parents and sister were asleep. My curiosity led to watching his webcam feed. According to his records, he was eighteen and a senior in high school. His web history supported that. For most of the time, he was a normal teenage boy.

He looked at the usual amount of porn, all of it standard vanilla fare, and spent a great deal of time gaming. He did his school work, got decent grades, and stayed out of trouble. It was all very standard and uninteresting. I began to think I was wrong to waste my curiosity on him. Then, I watched him watch one of my videos.

All of the boring normalcy melted away. His pupils blew wide as he watched me slaughter my victims. His soft, pink lips fell open in aroused pants. He leaned in close to the screen until every shade of green in his eyes was visible. He was radiant in his perverseness. I felt a long forgotten twitch in my pants.

I watched him after that. Every time I released a video, I pulled up his video feed and watched him watching me. At the end of the third month of watching him, he upped the ante. I gripped the edge of my desk as I watched him slip a hand into his pants. He stroked himself hard and fast.

His pleasured grimace eased into rapture, as he tore his eyes away from the screen to throw his head back. I watched the wet spot spread across the front of his boxers with narrowed eyes. He was ripe, perfect. Mine. I wanted him. As I watched, he jerked into an upright position and began to yell at someone out of screen. His sister. She was a nuisance.   
I sent the chain letter. Part of me hoped he would simply delete it, so I could come for him. Take him away and never bring him back. His sister ruined that. I was bound by certain self-imposed rules, and his account had sent the letter to others. I could not touch him. Yet.

I cut my way through his unworthy friends with no small amount of pleasure. They did not deserve him. That bitch of a sister, especially. I gleefully cut her down. I felt a twinge of remorse when I caught a glimpse of my boy later. He looked haunted, terrified. It was not a look I liked on him.

I preferred the boy from the week ago, the beautiful creature who had come when I looked at him. Something had to be done. I set a timer on the account and went to his house. Just as I settled on his roof, the first email was sent. It was quickly followed by another and another. 

My boy lost all semblance of control. He screamed at his computer. His lean body was tense, his limbs flailing. His yelling culminated in the deletion of the chain letter. The tension in my chest eased and I let a slow smile creep across my face. My boy screamed for me to come and get him. I did not leave him waiting.

He was lighter than I expected. It was easy to carry him from the house and get him safely to my workshop. He was limp and pliant in my arms. His head fell back to reveal the long line of his neck and his creamy smooth skin. I set him down on the carpet I laid out for him. 

It was plush and the dark crimson of blood. I wanted to see his bare body sprawled across it. I shook my head to clear the image from my mind and grabbed the chains from the floor. I was not used to working carefully. My chains were usually intended for pain and death. It was a change to bind a body gently.

I wrapped the chain around his dainty left wrist and bound it to his left knee, before repeating the action with the right side. Laying on his side in that position, he looked helpless and small. I ran my fingers through his silky soft hair and reached for the spreader bar. I had designed and forged it myself for him. It fastened to the chain and kept his knees spread wide.

I stroked up his thigh to his waist and turned him over onto his front. The sight of him with his thighs spread and ass on offer was almost enough to test my patience. I wanted to rip his clothes away and place hand-shaped bruises all over that pale skin. I wanted to make him scream and moan for me. I needed to fuck him until he knew he was mine.

I pulled my hands away from his hips before I could act on my thoughts. I bound his ankles and tipped him back into a kneeling position. The sight of his lean body so perfectly presented did dangerous things to me. I backed away from him, hands balled tightly into fists. I waited in the shadows.

My boy woke slowly. His hair fell forward into his eyes and he was slow to understand his situation. When he did, his head jerked up and he peered into the darkness. His eyes held a combination of fear and excitement. I stepped out of the shadows. 

My eyes wandered over him leisurely, finally settling on his groin. He was hard for me. My boy’s sweet little cock was calling out to be touched, fondled. I moved toward him.

He watched me approach with wide-eyes. Once he was in range, I grabbed a fistful of that silky soft hair and looked down into his face. There was apprehension and excitement, but no real fear. No terror. I pressed his face into the fabric of my jeans. 

I expected him to let out a token struggle, but he only fought when I tried to pull him away. He let out the most heartbreaking whine and looked up at me with pleading eyes. I let him take what he needed. I unzipped my fly and my boy moaned something and latched onto my cock like he needed it to live. He made hungry, whimpering noises as he suckled. 

I could not take my eyes off him. His long eyelashes fluttered against his pale cheeks and his pretty pink lips stretched wide around my cock. He choked himself several times, in his enthusiasm. The feel of my boy swallowing around me made my toes curl, but I jerked him back when he began to turn red.

“Careful,” I growled. I took a step back from him.

He whined, staring up at me with his face wet from tears and his lips red from sucking me. I wanted to trace that mouth with my thumb, but I held back. I wanted to claim him first. Once he was mine, I would give in to the urge to trace every inch of him. 

I grabbed him by the back of the neck and lay him down on his front with his ass presented. When I gripped his hips, my boy tried to press into my touch. 

“Such a good boy,” I rumbled.

I ripped his pants from him and tossed them aside. His underwear left little to the imagination. The material was threadbare cotton that did nothing to hide the sweet roundness of my boy’s ass. I gently massaged his cheeks, listening to the moans and sighs he let out, before pressing a single digit to his tiny pucker. His hole swallowed the tip of my finger.

When I pulled back the fabric stayed. I watched his ass clench around the tiny bit of cloth and gripped the base of my cock. He whined. My boy was a tease without even trying. I steadied myself and ripped his underwear aside. His ass was pale and smooth and soft.

I pulled the plastic tube from my pocket and flipped open the cap. Several times, I had watched my boy struggle to take one of his own fingers. He would be tight, a virgin. I added a healthy amount of lube and pressed one finger into him. His was painfully tight and burning hot. I stopped when one finger was fully inside him.

His body was shaking and his inner muscles were fluttering in alarm. “More,” he whispered.

My boy was brave. I smirked to myself and gently slid my finger out of him. His body tried to suck it back in. I gave him a moment and pressed back in. His back arched and he let out a broken little sound, but there was no cry to stop. I worked the finger into him until he loosened up enough to add another. 

I coated both fingers in a thick coating of lubrication and slide them both in together. My boy wriggled and moaned, destroying my concentration. Finally, I gripped the back of his neck to hold him still. He went limp. I carefully pulled my fingers back and eased them in again, focusing on stretching him.

My boy’s gasping and whining tried my patience, every sound making my cock throb with the urge to be inside him. When he was stretched enough to take me without breaking, I slipped my fingers free. I set my knees outside his to accommodate our difference in size and lay over his back. My body surrounded him. 

He began to struggle. It was his first real show of fear. I lay still over him, only moving my hips enough to press my cock head to his entrance. He stilled. His smaller body heaved with exertion, but I waited until he eased his hips back in acceptance. I pushed inside him. 

I stroked the soft skin of his neck and listened to his breathing. It was shaky and he was whimpering, but it changed to a long, low moan once the head of my cock popped through his tight opening. He shook and gasped through the entirety of the first slow thrust. 

I gently stroked my boy’s skin until I bottomed out. He let out a soft sigh. I gave him a moment to recover and pulled back. I thrust back in with a little more force. He screamed. I grabbed a handful of his hair and thrust again, seeking that spot. I knew I found it when his body went rigid and he gasped.

I pulled back and thrust into it again. My boy cursed, his body sucking at me in his pleasure. I chuckled and focused all of my attention on that spot. He cursed and moaned beneath me, writhing as much as he was able. His head thrashed from side to side and I caught a glimpse of one blushing cheek and an eye squeezed tightly closed.

His curses turned to demands and finally pleas. I could not resist him. I snaked a hand down to grasp his sweet, little cock. It was wet and warm with his arousal. And so hard it must have been painful. I stroked him quickly, feeling an overwhelming urge to make him come. I wanted my boy’s pleasure splashed over my hand.

His slight body went rigid beneath me and he let out a long, drawn out moan. Warmth spilled from his cock to coat my fingers. I smiled fiercely and came inside him, marking him as my own. His breathing began to slow at the same time his body went fully limp. I looked down at the back of his head. 

His sandy hair was swept to the side, revealing a tiny freckle just below his hairline. I leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss there, before pulling back from him. A combination of lubrication and cum dribbled out of his used hole. The rim was puffy and red, but there was no trace of blood.

I rolled my boy over onto his side and removed the chains. There were bruises around his wrists, but the rest of the chains had left no marks. Smiling to myself, I removed the rest of his clothes and carried him into my shop. I lay him down on the bunk I occasionally used and retrieved the carpet. 

A few stray drops of white painted the intricate design of the rug. I left them and rolled it up in the corner. When I returned to the cot, he was awake and watching me. I looked him over. He made no move to cover himself. 

“Are you going to kill me?” he asked softly.

I frowned and shook my head. He was mine. Mine to fuck, mine to keep, mine to care for. 

“Oh.” He started to sit up and gasped. He fell back onto his side.

Yes. I had expected this. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a bottle of pills. I handed him two. He eyed them for a brief moment before he took them from my hand and dry swallowed them. He grimaced.

“Thanks,” he said softly. 

I nodded.

There would be an adjustment period, I knew. He was a technology lover. He would suffer from withdraw symptoms until he had purged it from his system. Perhaps, I would need to fuck it out of him. His eyes rose to mine and he seemed to see some of my thoughts. He blushed.

There was time for that later. I watched him until the pain pills took effect and his muscles relaxed. He settled into a light doze on the cot. I returned to my computer to check the progress of the chain letter. My boy had lost another of his group. Jessica Campbell. What a pity. I locked the shop door behind me.


End file.
